I dragged the box inside and left it in the corner of dad’s old room downstairs. I remembered dad’s bell with the brass handle and the Hindu goddess on it. It became his dearest companion during his seven yearlong cycle of ill health. Dad used the bell to his advantage, to get our attention when he needed to and when he’d had enough of us crowding and fussing over him, he would ring it vigorously, to mark the end of visiting time.